


I'm a reflection; I'll show this mess you made

by Chapter54-Page100and5 (Bookworm39)



Category: FNAF: The Musical, Five Nights at Freddy's: The Musical, Natewantstobattle Egos, Random Encounters: FNAF The Musical
Genre: ALSO since I dunno if you can see it my icon is by tumblr user cloudysarts!, Attempted Murder, Death Threats, Demonic Possession, Developing Friendships, FNAF the Musical (Random Encounters), Gen, Horror, I don't remember who but shoutout to them, Impulse Control, LET THESE BOYS BE INCLUDED, Mark Fischbach Egos, Markiplier egos - Freeform, Morally Questionable Natemare, NWTB Egos, Nathan Sharp Egos, Non-Linear Narrative, TY to them for letting me use it, Trauma, Trauma Recovery, but I made it happy instead, can you tell I kept planning to end this AND THEN DIDN'T, friendly roasting, fun with text formatting, hOW do I tag these fandoms/characters, horror themes, mild spoilers for Web of Lies, mostly just as nicknames to sort them by, nyx is FNAFtM!Mark and a name somebody on Tumblr came up with, or lack thereof, salvage is FNAFtM!Nate and my name idea based on one of Nate's fnaf songs, the closest to RPF I'll ever get, this was supposed to hace a spooky/downer ending, trying to give backstories to some underrated characters, wanting to throw down with a serial killer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-11-23 03:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookworm39/pseuds/Chapter54-Page100and5
Summary: (Title pulled from ‘One Way Ticket’ by NateWantsToBattle.)Where there’s a prolific serial killer, there’s bound to be a few violent spirits. And while Nate doesn’t know what exactly this thing is, it at least seems to want him to stay alive, so there was that.(Inspired by a combination of Random Encounters’ “FNAF the Musical” and the music video for NateWantsToBattle’s “Mangled.” Be sure to check both out before reading this!)





	I'm a reflection; I'll show this mess you made

**Author's Note:**

> Quick disclaimer: despite the names of the characters involved, I don't consider this RPF. I know it's gonna get sorted in there, because all YouTuber Ego stuff seems to end up there, but I'm writing Mark and Nate as seen in FNAF: the Musical as separate characters that simply have more in common with the IRL people than most egos do (including sharing names).

“Where is it, where it is…”

He had to find it. He didn’t know what _it_ was, but he had to find it.

That tiny voice in his head-driving him to paranoia, to looking over his shoulder constantly, to jumping at the slightest sounds, to giving his coworkers one-word answers to any questions asked. That voice had gotten into his head, demanding he check Mr. Afton’s office.

There had to be something there. Something that would either calm or validate the awful inkling of fear that had blossomed into full-blown anxiety in the past few days.

_Find it find it <strike>FIND IT NATE-</strike>_

As far as he could remember, he never found whatever he was looking for. He didn’t remember even finding out what it was. And he certainly didn’t know who opened the door behind him.

And he didn’t remember anything for several hours afterwards.

He'd never had memory problems before. Of course he forgot things-everyone did. But no big gaps in his memory. No lost time. No waking up at home with no clue how he got there.

He remembered coming into work the next day with a sick feeling in his gut. He remembered talking to someone whose voice was familiar, but whose face and name eluded him.

_“Mr. Wantstobattle, correct?”_

_“Ah, man, that was just a joke… Thought you guys’d fix that. It’s a stage name thing-or, it will be, soon, I hope-but, uh, Mr. Sharp, actually. Or just Nate, either way.”_

_“Mr. Sharp… A bit on the nose, isn’t it?”_

Then it cut off again.

He'd also never had any other issues before. No anxiety. No hallucinations. No feelings of being watched at all times. No voices that seemed to whisper right into his head. No random waves of fear that were enough to freeze his blood-

Blood.

That was the next thing he remembered.

Splashes of still-warm blood on his clothes and hands, and on the door he had been leaning against when he awoke. No sign of a weapon. No body. No wounds on himself. Just blood.

<strike>_It's fine,_</strike> the voice whispered to him as he stumbled away from the backroom door. <strike>_He'd have to be even crazier than I thought he was to try to call the cops here._</strike>

The voice did nothing to cancel out the bile rising in Nate's throat, the tears pricking at his eyes as he wondered whose corpse was back there. He should have opened the door, or turned himself in. But instead, he hastily wrote up a letter of resignation, threw it and his badge on the desk, and ran before his shift was up.

For once, he was kinda glad he didn't remember anything.

* * *

Mark wasn’t the type of person to take orders from talking animals.

Or at least, that's what he would’ve said, if the topic ever came up.

Er, he would’ve said that any more than six days ago, before having stared down a homicidal basket case alongside a band of fuzzy robots and a mechanic/musician with a sense of sarcasm that rivaled even Mark’s own.

_It's been a weird couple'a weeks._

Said multitalented asshole was the whole reason Mark had to obey the animatronics, as he’d gotten a call from their office-_well, that was a weird thought, wasn’t it_-pleading with him to go check on Nate.

_“He- he called earlier to check on us, and he sounded really upset-Mark, please, can you make sure he’s okay?!”_

Mark was pretty sure robotic chickens couldn’t cry, but he wasn’t about to take the chance. So now he stood outside Nate’s apartment door, biting his lip as he knocked for the third time. “First time, he just didn’t hear you,” he told himself out loud. “Second time, he’s playing hard to get. Third time, something's up. Fourth time, you break down his door.”

Thankfully for Nate, it never had to get to the ‘fourth knock’ step, as he opened the door right as Mark raised his hand again. Mark froze, then grinned with relief once he processed it. “There you are!”

“Yeah, here I am…” Nate groaned, rubbing underneath one eye. "What's up?"

"Oh, uh..." Mark shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet. "Nnnnnnothing! Just, uh... Checking on my pal...!" Nate raised an eyebrow _(man, if he can see through me even when he’s like this...)_, and Mark sighed in resignation. “Look, the robots were worried about you, and…” _And to be frank, now I kinda am too,_ Mark thought, having noticed the tired look in Nate’s eyes, and the smell of… something _burnt?_ “You went back to Fazbear’s again, didn’t you?”

Mark’s voice was quiet, but he hoped Nate could still tell how annoyed he was. And clearly Nate did, if the way he turned away and shoved his hands in his pockets was any sign. “Nate, c’mon, dude- There’s no need to keep doing this! You're not gonna find anything else to maintain the fuzzy four, alright? All you’re gonna do is get yourself _arrested!_ Which isn’t fun, lemme tell you…” The last bit got a soft chuckle out of Nate, which was the point.

“I know, I know…” Nate sighed, leaning against his doorframe, shoulders slouching. “I just… I had a feeling, and it wasn’t gonna go away until I checked something. And don’t worry,” he added, raising a hand as he saw Mark scoff and roll his eyes. “That was the last time. There is no way there’s anything left to find, I promise.”

“There wasn’t the last three times you went in there!” Nate flinched, and Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, just… what’d you even find in there?”

Nate looked at his feet for a long while, to the point that Mark started to worry that he’d dozed off. Finally, he shook his head slowly, muttering as he did, “Nothing. I didn’t find anything.” Before Mark could ask, Nate looked up, then around them. “Look, can you come inside real quick? I… I need to tell you something.”

_Y’know, this is how people usually end up getting murdered by somebody that they only kinda know,_ Mark thought, but he didn’t say anything out loud. He wasn’t sure what Nate wanted or needed right now, but it probably _wasn’t_ to be compared to their ex-boss.

** _“Why, it’s a crime scene! And you’re the victims.”_ **

_Christ, that guy had a twisted way of having fun,_ Mark thought with a shiver. _At least he’s gone, though. He’s… not gonna hurt any of us._

Mark had been busy cringing at the thought of… **that guy,** and he hadn’t realized he must’ve grumbled a positive, must’ve followed Nate into his apartment. He shook his head, watching as his friend almost fell backwards onto the couch, rubbing his forehead. Mark ran a hand through his hair, sitting down next to Nate. “What’s bugging you, man?”

“I-” Nate crossed his arms, glancing at Mark for only a moment before looking away again. “I didn’t want to tell you, make things harder, but…” He took a deep breath, then finished, “But it’s not right to hide this, a-and I’d rather you find out from me than some random cop or something.” He went silent for a second, then muttered, “He survived, Mark.”

“Who survi-” Mark froze, a sick feeling forming in his stomach. He could take a guess, but… But there was no way, right?! There was no way that he’d made it out of that fire! “Phone Guy?”

Nate nodded slightly, turning back to Mark, who was frozen in horror, and the two locked eyes. Mark could feel his own threatening to bug right out of his head; meanwhile, the dark circles under Nate’s seemed even deeper than before. “He got out alive, Mark. He… he went to jail, of course, th-they were able to pin him with security tapes from the restaurant, but…” He leaned back into the armrest on his side, and Mark noticed just how tightly Nate was pulling against himself-less like he was shutting himself in, and more like he was scared he'd fall apart. “He called me the day after, and… He said he’d never stop trying to get out. And that, when he did, he was gonna find us and-” He cut himself off, but Mark could guess where it was going.

“I’ll kill him.”

He wished he didn’t mean it. He really did! After that little… ‘mishap’ at Freddy’s (which he’d gotten out of on the grounds that he ‘had every right to feel his safety was at risk,’ and on the grounds that he was hardly the most illegal thing in that building), he’d told himself he was going to avoid letting his impulsiveness get him in any more trouble. And besides, he knew threatening to kill somebody who was already in jail and, at the moment, posed no threat was kind of a dick move. But looking at his friend-who he’d only known for a week or so-curled up on his own couch and likely on the verge of a panic attack, and thinking about those stupid fuzzy robots-who he wasn’t attached to-who he’d had to comfort that night after everything was over-

He found he just didn’t _care._

“If he ever shows his face again, I’m going to kill him,” he growled, storming to his feet, fists balled at his side. “If he really thinks he can just- keep coming at us, if he _really_ thinks he hasn’t done enough damage, then I’m gonna show him damage like he’s_ never **seen**-!_”

“**Mark!**”

He stopped, then looked over his shoulder. Nate was sitting bolt upright, one hand reached out to Mark, the other wrapped around his own torso. He was breathing heavily-even heavier than Mark, who was the one who’d just gone on a bloodthirsty tirade-and he suddenly seemed completely awake. He shook his head, then muttered, “Please, don’t… say that.”

“Why not!?” Mark fired back, turning around fully.

“Because I can’t handle anyone else _dying,_ alright?!” Nate froze, groaning <strike>in… pain?</strike> as he clutched his head. “I just… I don’t want anybody else running around killing people, Mark. I don’t even know if you mean it, but please…” He took a shaky breath, putting his head in both hands now, mumbling something to himself.

Mark stared in horror, partly at Nate and partly at himself._ It’s fine,_ he told himself. _He's just… stressed out. You’re making it worse, but he’s not… _scared_ of you or anything, right?_

_He doesn’t think I’m like **him**, right?_

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Mark whispered, then cleared his throat and spoke up. “I’m really sorry, Nate. I didn’t mean to… upset you. I just…” He sighed, fighting to drop the tension in his shoulders. “I don’t like people getting hurt.”_ And if I have to kill that freakshow with my bare hands to keep anyone else from getting hurt, then I’ll do it,_ he added to himself, but he held his tongue.

“Yeah.” Nate sighed, looking up from behind his hands. “Can’t say I blame ya'.” He shook his head once, then looked back up at Mark, a tight smile on his face. “I’m just glad you’re on _my_ side.”

“Well, ‘course I am!” Mark caught himself smiling. If somebody would’ve told him that his first real friend in L.A. would wander into his house after a band of living robots, he wouldn’t have believed it. But now?

_Not gonna lie, I think I’m buying it._

“Hey, you want me to grab you a glass of water? Or, uh-” He ran a hand through his hair, adding, “-a beer, maybe?”

Nate laughed, saying, “Nah, just some water is fine. I should probably start some coffee soon, if I’m gonna get any work done today…”

“Meh, work’s overrated.” Mark sighed, giving Nate one more once-over before turning to the apartment’s kitchen area. While he wouldn’t say it out loud-at least, not any time soon-he knew one thing for certain.

_I will personally end anything that tries to hurt them._

* * *

The voice had been silent for years. He’d been left alone since he quit Freddy’s. He’d thought it was **over.**

<strike> _He’s back._ </strike>

<strike> _Stop holding me back._ </strike>

<strike> _Let me stop him for good._ </strike>

Guess it was just on a break.

He could feel whatever it was fighting against the whole time he watched the Phone Guy, <strike>who he’d tried to kill so long ago.</strike> He didn’t know who he’d left in that backroom, it could’ve been anybody. _<strike>It was him, I promise you.</strike>_

<strike> _**He’s** the monster._ </strike>

<strike> _I’m just trying to protect you._ </strike>

It never turned its bloodlust on the robots or Mark or AJ <strike>he killed your friend he killed _so many people._</strike>

<strike> _I won’t let him kill you too._ </strike>

He shouldn’t have listened when it told him to check the burned-out ruins of the pizzeria. It wasn’t logical.

But he had to, just as much as he had to check Mr. Afton’s office before.

And he was going to find it this time.

A smart man wouldn’t have done it. A man with_ any_ sense of reason wouldn’t have done it more than once. But if it was going to take fours tries to find it, that was fine too.

It was a tape. Probably a security tape, he’d told himself. He should’ve turned it in.

Something told him not to.

<strike> _Look, I did not go through all the trouble of keeping you safe for you to rot in jail, grease monkey!_ </strike>

Well, saying _something_ implied he wasn’t used to it by now.

So he took the tape home and watched it-

_“Look, whatever you want, just let me go! The pay’s not that bad, heh-”_

_“Ooooh, I’m not after anything you can afford to give out!”_

_The flash of metal in front of the camera. A yell of pain._

_“So, I’m just gonna have to take it by force. Sorry!”_

-which was probably the safer option.

He’d ripped the film out of the tape, which was simply labeled ‘Don’t forget.’ _<strike>He kept a keepsake. Of course he did.</strike>_

<strike> _I **told** you I had a point._ </strike>

<strike> _He was going to kill you too that night._ </strike>

<strike> _You’re welcome, by the way._ </strike>

* * *

_I do believe you, Mark._

<strike> _Let me out. You know I’m right. I’ll make sure they never hurt you again._ </strike>

_...But not everybody does._

**“-I’m going to kill him.”**

<strike> _He’s dangerous. Let me get rid of him._ </strike>

_No! He… He’s a friend. He’s not going to hurt me._

<strike> _You don’t know that._ </strike>

…

Nate leaned back on his sofa, arms wrapped around himself again. He could hear Mark searching the kitchen for a glass. He begged the nagging force in the back of his head to stay silent, to let him have this. It had been hard to make friends afterwards-first because it had taken him over a year to convince himself that he wouldn’t hurt somebody else. Then, his introversion hadn’t exactly helped, and neither did the whole ‘adult life’ thing. He didn’t want to be alone again.

It had actually been a bit of a blessing to get called back to Freddy’s, he’d decided. As much as they drove him up the wall, the four animatronics all chattering to him, asking how he was, wondering where he’d gone… It was strangely nice.

_He smiled to himself, watching the ‘bots sleep as he walked back to the couch. He sighed, rubbing his forehead-wishing Springtrap hadn’t broken the frames of his glasses-as he sat back down on the floor, glancing sideways at the redhead seated next to him. “I guess I should probably thank you for not shooting or stabbing us.”_

_The redhead scoffed, saying, “Yeah, maybe breaking into the house of an attempted murderer _wasn’t_ your best plan.”_

_A snort came from the pile of fake fur and metal, and the two looked that way in unison. “In my defense, I’m almost certain that those four can’t die,” Nate said._

_“Well, turns out I can’t actually _kill_ anybody, so you guys were safe.” There was silence, then a muttered, “I’m probably gonna sell all that stuff anyway. Mostly the guns. I’d like to keep some of the knives, but… I probably shouldn’t have high-powered weapons anymore. Even if I _do_ get my record cleared.”_

_Nate nodded slightly, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned back, eyes rolling back to the redhead. “I never caught your name, did I?”_

_The other man paused, brow furrowing. “No, I guess not.” He groaned as he pushed himself upright, turning himself to face Nate. “It’s... Mark. Mark Fischbach”_

_“Nate Sharp.” He offered his hand, and Mark seemed to be caught off-guard. Still, he took it, shaking firmly for a moment. “Thanks for agreeing to help.”_

_“Not like I had much of a choice.” Mark sighed, shaking his head. “Once the cops realize they don’t have me, I bet they’re gonna search the whole damn state for me.”_

_“They’re probably not gonna think you’re hiding in your own house, though.”_

_Mark chuckled to himself at this. “Probably not. Still, better I just clear my name. ‘Sides, don’t want that Springtrap thing deciding it wants to come for me next.” He paused again, then changed the subject. “Hey, you don’t mind if I grab some of that coffee after all, do you?”_

_“Go for it. I think I made more than enough, but we’ll see.” Nate grunted slightly as Mark used his shoulder as a handhold to stand up from the couch._

_“Sorry.” Mark looked over his shoulder, apparently giving Nate one more studious once-over. He clearly wanted to say something, but Nate for the life of him had no clue what. Finally, Mark just shook his head again, a small half-smile forming on his face. “You’re a strange guy, Nate. Just wanted to make sure you knew.”_

_Nate raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Same to you.”_

“Here.” Nate looked up from his own legs and saw Mark standing over him, glass of water in hand. “You feelin’ any better?”

Nate gave a non-committal mumble in response, but accepted the glass and took a sip. He heard a _*thump*_, and turned to see Mark sitting on the floor next to him. Nate bit his lip, drawing his legs up to his chest and saying, “You don’t have to do that. I’ll move-”

“Nah, I’m a dog person. I’m used to randomly sitting on the floor.” Mark smiled up at Nate, who could still see the concern hidden in his eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

<strike> _Get away from him._ </strike>

Nate looked away, almost afraid to say it. “Can you just… Stay here a bit longer? You don’t have to do anything, just…”_ I want to prove that you’re not going to hurt me._

Mark nodded, understanding at least part of Nate’s fears. “You don’t wanna be alone right now. Yeah, I get it.”

<strike> _Don’t let him near you!_ </strike>

_No, you really don’t._

Nate nodded slightly, then turned back to Mark. “You can even just- screw off on your phone or something, if you want. That’s fine with me.”

“No- I mean-” Mark sighed, then, under his breath, he continued, “If you’re up for it, I’d kinda like to just… talk to you.”

Nate’s eyes widened, and he felt his nails dig into his own arms again. “‘Bout what?”

“Anything!” Mark replied, running a hair through his hair. “_Without_ the threat of some deadly thing or another on either side of us. I just… want to talk like friends.”

Nate stared blankly for a moment-which he knew wasn’t the right thing to do, but he was just so caught off-guard. He looked at the floor, then, quiet enough that Mark probably struggled to hear him, he laughed. He smiled, and he knew he must’ve looked crazy, with his arms around himself and a crooked smile on his face. But he loosened his grip, dropping his hands to rest on the couch, and he rolled his legs, sitting upright. “Yeah.” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, sounds like a plan to me.”

Mark smiled, his concern seeming to melt away just a bit. “Great!”

Nate wasn’t really bothered with what they’d talk about. That wasn’t nearly as important as the fact that they were talking. That he was pushing aside the paranoid little rambling in his head, dropping his walls to somebody again.

_I don’t care what it says. And I don’t care how much I have to fight._

_I’m going to trust you._

**Author's Note:**

> *Kicks wall down* FNAF THE MUSICAL IS ALIVE AGAIN.  
AND I GOT SO HYPED FOR IT THAT THIS SUPPOSED ''''HALLOWEEN'''' UPLOAD IS GOING UP NOW.  
I didn’t expect to write Youtuber egos stuff, aside from maaaybe Sanders Sides, but here we are. I've been trying to find a way to combine Nate's 2015 'Mangled' vid with Random Encounters' stuff for a while now, and the idea finally hit me. (Might've had something to do with the reveal we got 'bout Mat's character in 'Web of Lies.' Def. had to do with the fact that 'Webs of Lies' brought my love for this series back with a vengeance.)  
I don’t know if I’ll ever write anything with this concept, so if anybody else was planning to write FNAF:tM and wants to use this, I just ask you A: credit me for the concept, and B: give me a link because this damn silly series is my most specific and niche obsession. Hell, link me in any (non-shippy) FNAF:tM stuff you have. I need it.  
And if you’re familiar with my main FNAF work, don’t worry; while I’ve been battling a long row of writer’s block for ‘Ghost in the Machine,’ I DO hope to FINALLY post a prequel story I’ve been working on since before I first posted GitM.  
Happy early Halloween, and it’s nice to see you guys again, Five Nights fandom. Don’t know how long I can stay, but it's nice to stop by again :D.  
(P.S. Now that I've done it once, I think I may end up writing more egos things, especially after watching all the JackSepticEye Egos stuff. Stay tuned!!)


End file.
